


Dear Inquisitor, Dear Archeovist

by frustratedFreeboota



Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: F/M, How do you mail someone a Tesseract Labyrinth?, Inquisition, Letter Bombs, Letter Vortex Weapons, Letters, Love Letters, Necron - Freeform, Necrontyr, Ordo Xenos, Passive-aggression, Snark, Solemnace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-05-01 04:46:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14512857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frustratedFreeboota/pseuds/frustratedFreeboota
Summary: A selection of letters between the immortal Trazyn the Infinite, Archeovist of the Solemnace Galleries, grandest of collectors... And Valeria, a woman that had the misfortune to kill him once.Detailing a series of exchanges between two archaeologists of each other's culture. Starting with exchanged death threats, of course.





	1. Chapter 1

To whom it may concern,  
An infant would have had the wit to escape the trinket you so kindly delivered to me. I am unsure as to the rearming mechanism, and the decoration is hardly artisanal, and so I have contented myself with using it as a paperweight until I can discern whether it was intended as a gift, or an insult. After all, as you say it IS just a trinket, but to call it THE Hyperstone Maze speaks of a certain level of pride in its creation.

Regarding the Catachan Jungle fighters, I must apologise. I had never set foot inside your monument to the Acabrius war. I am afraid that I was more concerned by the state of your diorama of the death of Lord Solar Macharius. It was wonderfully faithful... To the commemorative paintings drawn of the ceremony. I must express my severe disappointment with your choice of guardsmen. The overwhelming majority of Astra Militarum present were wearing the wrong boots. It seems like such a small nitpick, but I trust that any TRUE collector wouldn't permit such a glaring mistake in their displays.

I hope my correspondence finds you well to receive the Vortex Grenade in the parcel attached.

Sincerely,  
His obd. Servant,  
Inquisitor Valencia of the Ordo Xenos

Thought of the day; to counsel the alien is unconscionable, to seek its council is heresy.


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Lady, forgive me if I find myself doubtful that a primitive mind such as your own was sufficient to escape the clutches of Bartosz the Mad's finest in four dimensional matrices. Indeed, I must wonder as to how a three dimensional wit was able to free itself from a prison intended to restrain deities.

Your letter finds me well and truly ecstatic over your contribution to my collection of Imperial doomsday devices of the 30th millennium, taking a well deserved place upon my shelf. The manufacturing date places it well after the Battle of Calth, making the worth of such a weapon almost incalculable. I have taken the liberty of encasing the vortex grenade within a stasis chamber that it might be studied and ruminated on without the eventual threat of detonation. So many of your Imperium's devices have aged to the point where one must consider them unreliable. It is hardly the mark of a poor engineer that they might only last this many epochs, but it is to be expected. It is little wonder that I find my work so hard to conduct.

Which brings me rather naturally to your complaint. I am well aware of the so called inaccuracies amongst my galleries. I am well aware that the attire may differ somewhat considerably between infantry of one millenium and the next. But I hardly can be expected to collect accurate footwear for more than five companies of infantry, let alone five companies of infantry that have been dead for over five centuries!

Now. Since your gift has placed me in your debt once more, I have taken the liberty to enclose the phylactery of Erasmus the Mad. A tragic tale, the Lord was consumed from within by the very nanoscarabs he had entrusted with his repair. I do hope that you will take the appropriate precautions to contain their metallophagic spread.


	3. Chapter 3

Dear anonymous, I must question your commitment to keeping "even" with me in our exchange of gifts. Really, I was quite content with "The Hyperstone Maze". I find myself increasingly intrigued by it. For something you seem quite keen to dismiss as a curiosity, it seems to have quite the tale behind it. I hope you don't mind furnishing me with its story. Alass, I've gotten quite carried away. I am still learning the intricacies of reply by hyperscroll missive, and I fear the antique melta bomb attached may be damaged in much the same way as the phylactery you send me had been. Regarding your last gift, it appears to have consumed itself at some point in transit. I will catalogue what remains of it, as soon as I can identify whether "The Mad" was a formal or informal title for its owner. Is "The Mad" a formal title among your people, and if so, is it your title?

His Obd. Svt, Inquisitor Valeria of the Ordo Xenos.

Thought of the day: A moment of heresy can no more be lost amidst a lifetime of piety than a drop of blood amidst a glass of water.


	4. Chapter 4

Dear lady, rest assured that your melta bomb was received intact, functional, operational, in working order, and in what I must assume to be a tragic accident on the behalf of the servant that you had prepare such an exquisite gift, armed.

If you are in dire need of a history lesson, "The Mad" is indeed a formal title among my people, reserved for those possessing an exquisite intellect that their peers have deemed... odd. Any illusions above one's station might be cause for such a grand and noble title to be bestowed upon someone. Why, someone such as yourself, persisting in contacting a member of another species whose gifts seem extravagantly lethal... well. It would hardly be befitting of "Lady Inquisitor Valeria the Sane" now would it?

As for the Hyperstone Maze, it was an artisanal tesseract labyrinth, as I have already told you. Ascribing any more significance to its creator, a droll type if his precogniscience Orikan the Diviner, former arch Chronarch of the Vindarkh, high astrologer to the courts of Imotekh the Stormlord, effer of the ineffable... is to be believed, would be pointless. Its value is in the utter inescability of its confines, and the rather pretty shade of blue its extradimensional energies are tinted.

As is our custom, oh Lady Inquisitor of the Ordo Xenos,obedient servant of the God Emperor of Man, I have enclosed another gift. Another trinket I am afraid, considerably less valuable than the Heresy era Mars manufactured incendiery device you saw so fit to bequeath to me. A scale replica of the captive star at the heart of each Doomsday Ark utilised by the Mephrit Dynasty, with barely a thousandth of its destructive capability.

I hope it finds you well.


	5. Chapter 5

Dear Anonymous the Mad, thank you for the new desk lamp.

Rest assured that your repeated references to the character and culture of your species are not falling on deaf ears, merely ones weary after another day in the Emperor's service, poring over the rest of our encounters with your blasphemous and heretical species in the hope of uncovering another such reference. 

I must apologise, chatting with someone so poorly versed in your lore must surely be tiresome. To that end, I have enclosed a humble frag grenade, in the hopes that it add some measure of surprise to what must surely otherwise be a normal day within a life immeasurably longer than my own.

In the almost absolute certainty that you are still alive and well after receiving said gift, I wish to inquire as to the means by which this Orikan the Diviner had conversed with the architect of the Hyperstone Maze, seeing as the Maze had been constructed during the height of the Charnovokh dynasty, and seeing as how said height precedes the famed bio-transference your people are always blathering on about by a few millennia at the least. It seems more than a little odd, wouldn't you agree?

Yours, His Obd. Svt. Inq. V. of the Ordo X.

Thought of the Day: Even a simple mind may bend its knee to the Emperor's will.


End file.
